Soap Bars and Tear Stains

One twist of cold silver and icy drops begin to pour; soon warming air with their dainty breath- and she stands there amidst mildewed yellow-tiled walls.

Her cheeks are tainted with black tracks from her obvious attempt to appeal and conceal and they grow wetter with water- or tears- as the two mix. river and ocean yet not so kind.

The thundering water keeps a steady rhythm as it fringes and laces the wide-set shower head and mask her frantic sobs as they evolve into wisps of sadness. for even with all the water around her, she can conjure up no more.

But even with the scalding nature of the downpour and the purifying of a soul, the soap scum will still loiter in the cracks between the yellow tiles, far after this cleansing

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